Matthew Prior

(1664 - 1721 / Dorset / England)

Matthew Prior Poems

161. Solomon On The Vanity Of The World, A Poem. In Three Books. - Pleasure. Book Ii. 4/19/2010
162. An Epistle To Fleetwood Shephard, Esq. Burleigh, May 14, 1689 4/19/2010
163. An Extempore Invitation To The Earl Of Oxford, Lord High Treasurer 4/19/2010
164. An English Ballad, On The Taking Of Namur, By The King Of Great Britain 4/19/2010
165. A Passage In The Moriae Encomium Of Erasmus. Imitated 4/19/2010
166. An Epistle. Desiring The Queen's Picture, But Left Unfinished, By The Sudden News Of Her Majesty's Death 4/19/2010
167. Alma; Or, The Progress Of The Mind. In Three Cantos. - Canto Ii. 4/19/2010
168. To A Child Of Quality, Five Years Old, The Author Suppos'D Forty 1/3/2003
169. An Ode - Presented To The King, On His Majesty's Arrival In Holland, After The Queen's Death 4/19/2010
170. The Chameleon 4/19/2010
171. An Ode - Humbly Inscribed To The Queen, On The Glorious Success Of Her Majesty's Arms 4/19/2010
172. Henry And Emma. A Poem. 4/19/2010
173. Solomon On The Vanity Of The World, A Poem. In Three Books. - Knowledge. Book I. 4/19/2010
174. Alma; Or, The Progress Of The Mind. In Three Cantos. - Canto I. 4/19/2010
175. Jinny The Just 1/3/2003
176. A Lover's Anger 4/19/2010
177. A Song. In Vain You Tell Your Parting Lover 4/19/2010
178. The English Padlock 4/19/2010
179. A Song. If Wine And Music Have The Power 4/19/2010
180. On My Birthday, July 21 1/4/2003
181. A Letter To Lady Margaret Cavendish Holles-Harley, When A Child 1/4/2003
182. A Better Answer 1/3/2003
183. An Ode 1/3/2003
184. Gualterus Danistonus, Ad Amicos. - And Imitation 4/19/2010
185. A Reasonable Affliction 1/3/2003
186. An Epitaph 1/3/2003
187. A Simile 1/3/2003

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Best Poem of Matthew Prior

A Simile

Dear Thomas, didst thou never pop
Thy head into a tin-man's shop?
There, Thomas, didst thou never see
('Tis but by way of simile)
A squirrel spend his little rage
In jumping round a rolling cage?
The cage, as either side turn'd up,
Striking a ring of bells a-top?--

Mov'd in the orb, pleas'd with the chimes,
The foolish creature thinks he climbs:
But here or there, turn wood or wire,
He never gets two inches higher.

So fares it with those merry blades,
That frisk it under Pindus' shades.
In noble songs, and lofty odes,
They tread on stars, ...

Read the full of A Simile

An Epitaph

Interr'd beneath this marble stone,
Lie saunt'ring Jack and idle Joan.
While rolling threescore years and one
Did round this globe their courses run;
If human things went ill or well;
If changing empires rose or fell;
The morning passed, the evening came,
And found this couple still the same.
They walk'd and eat, good folks: what then?

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